


Down a Long, Dusty Road (or: How Dean Became Monogamous)

by whispered_story



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Casual Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, brief Dean/OFC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 22:02:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4762655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whispered_story/pseuds/whispered_story
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three days after Sam and Dean kill Dick Roman, Sam's powers return. [reposted, first posted on livejournal 20/4/2012]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down a Long, Dusty Road (or: How Dean Became Monogamous)

In retrospect, Dean thinks he should have known that after killing Dick Roman – and his whole army of Leviathans along with him – they wouldn't catch a break. It's never that simple. If you're a Winchester, the next bad thing is always just around the corner, waiting to pounce.

Still, Dean had hoped they'd get at least a few weeks before things got crazy again. A little time for them to regroup, to just be normal for a change. Hell, Dean would have settled for a few weeks of just simple, everyday hunts.

Of course it doesn't happen.

Three days after they kill Dick, Sam wakes Dean up. His hand is shaking a little where it rests on Dean's shoulder, and his mouth is pulled down in a frown, his forehead creased.

"I think my powers are back," he says.

And just like that, their world is turned upside down again.

+

"Why now?" Dean asks, pacing the floor.

Sam is sitting at the small table in their motel room, laptop open and books strewn around him. None of them offer an answer.

"It doesn't make sense. You were doing okay. This whole freaky power thing was over," Dean continues, rubbing a hand through his hair.

"I don't know, Dean," Sam mumbles, and he sounds tired. Small.

Dean sighs, resigned, and stops pacing. "Let's go get some food," he suggests, and Sam gives him a small smile.

Maybe, Dean thinks, they can at least forget about this whole thing for a couple of hours.

+

Thing is, it's not just Sam's old powers. It's not just visions or his freaky exorcising-demons-with-his-mind thing or telekinesis.

There's a whole new slew of craziness. 

He accidentally brushes against a car in the parking lot and the alarm goes blaring and headlights blinking. TVs and radios flicker on when Sam passes. One morning, Dean is in the shower when Sam walks into the bathroom and the water switches from hot to cold. 

Another time, Dean's mind is drifting off while they do – useless – research on Sam's powers and he starts thinking about going out to get some pie or at least a six-pack of beer instead.

"Jesus, Dean. Can't you eat something healthy just _once_ ," Sam snarks, not even looking up, and Dean freaks out.

Four days after Sam's powers return and their research has hit a halt, Dean says, "Maybe we should just get used to it. You're, like, Harry Potter or something."

"You never even read those books," Sam mutters, rubbing a hand over his face.

"That's not the point," Dean says with a sigh. 

Sam's jaw clenches, his eye doing that weird twitchy thing it does when Sam is ticked off, and he goes back to read book number 438.

+

"I don't think we should do this," Sam says, turning his face away. Dean's kiss lands on his cheek and he makes a frustrated noise.

He's a bit tipsy, but not nearly drunk enough for whatever is up Sam's ass now – because it's definitely not _Dean_ and that's just wrong – so Dean tries to ignore him. He sucks on Sam's jaw, his hands going straight for Sam's belt.

Sam pushes him away and Dean just barely manages not to fall off the bed.

"What the fuck?" Dean asks.

"I said we shouldn't do this," Sam snaps.

"What? This?" Dean asks, waving his hand at the space between their bodies. "Sam. Seriously, don't you think it's a little too late to freak out about us after _six years_?"

Dean has to admit he's stretching the truth a little. They did start this thing, whatever it was, six years ago – when Sam had pushed him up against the door after Dean sold his soul for him and kissed him until they were both breathless before burying his face in Dean's neck and crying hot, wet tears – but they've been more off than on ever since. 

But they've been fucking – and kissing, and occasionally, despite Dean's protests, cuddling – a lot more regularly than ever before lately and Dean had kinda assumed they were finally doing this right. They were finally on the same page.

Hell, he'd even shot down the seriously hot girl who hit on him at the bar he dragged Sam to tonight – and not just because Sam had been watching them with a pissed off expression, but because Dean had wanted to go home with _Sam_. He's horny and eager and Sam pushing him away really isn't fair. 

"Sam," Dean prompts, reaching for him again.

Sam bats his hands away. "I said no."

"You actually didn't," Dean points out. "And it's stupid anyway."

Sam snorts. "You're drunk," he mutters, and gets up from the bed.

Dean sits up, eyes following Sam's movements. "Don't you think you at least owe me an explanation?" he asks.

"Oh, so now you wanna talk?" Sam asks, and Dean knows he's just trying to rile him up. He shrugs.

"Yeah," he says. "So enlighten me, Sammy. Tell me why this is suddenly such a bad idea when you didn't have a problem with it before."

"Because God knows what could happen!" Sam explodes, throwing his hands up. "What I could do to you with my powers."

Dean groans and slides off the bed. He sways a little before he catches his balance.

"You're stupid," he says, and catches Sam by the hips, pulling him closer. "You think you'd hurt me?"

"How can you be so sure I won't?" Sam asks. There's a frown on his face that's really kind of adorable and makes Dean want to push Sam onto the bed and fuck him stupid.

"Because you could do that whether we're sharing a bed or I'm just across the room from you," Dean says, and Sam's frown deepens. "And no, we will not split up."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't. You've never hurt someone with your powers you didn't mean to hurt, Sammy," Dean murmurs. "Trust me."

"I trust you," Sam replies in a small voice. "I just don't trust myself right now."

"Yeah, well, _I_ trust you," Dean says and he leans in and kisses Sam softly. "I trust you not to try to kill me when I make you scream my name."

"Scream your name, huh?" Sam asks, a little amused.

Dean is pretty sure anyone else would agree that that's definitely a challenge - and Dean never backs down from a challenge.

+

It takes three weeks and two days for Sam to realize that Dean is right, that he's not going to accidentally kill Dean while they fuck.

Dean knows this because three weeks and two days after their little argument, Sam is the one who initiates sex between them for the first time since his powers returned. 

It makes Dean feel both giddy and relieved, and he rewards Sam by turning him onto his stomach and making him come just from Dean's tongue in his ass.

+

There are small setbacks sometimes. Sam has a headache a few days later that causes a power-outage in the whole small town they're staying in.

Another time, Sam accidentally causes a pipe to burst when a woman they interview is very obviously lying about where she was the night her husband got mauled in their bedroom.

There are small accidents here and there, and Dean takes it all in stride. He even tries not to be pissed off the day Sam accidentally ruins his favorite Metallica tape, though it's not easy. Sam's reaching to turn down the volume Dean had turned up five minutes earlier, and there's a horrible screeching noise and then everything goes quiet.

"Not your fault," he says, but his voice is tight after Sam apologizes for the fifth time. 

"I'll get you a new tape," Sam says. "Really, Dean, I didn't mean to do that."

"I know."

"I'm sorry," Sam says, and he sounds so upset the anger finally drains out of Dean.

"I know," Dean repeats. He offers Sam a small smile and Sam returns it, albeit weakly.

+

Sometimes, when Sam touches him, it feels different now. It's like there's a spark, a small surge of energy that rushes down Dean's spine when Sam's fingers brush his bare skin.

The first few times it happens, Sam flinches away, like he's scared his touch will electrocute Dean.

"It's not like that. It feels good," Dean reassures him, and smirks. "Guess there really are sparks flying when we're together."

Sam rolls his eyes at the lame joke, but he relaxes after that.

+

"That girl totally has the hots for you, Sammy," Dean says, a little too gleeful.

Sam shrugs, looking sour.

"She's pretty," Dean continues. He takes a sip of his beer and takes a moment to check out the girl that keeps glancing at Sam. She's tall, her golden blonde hair up in a ponytail that swings with every move she makes. She's the kind of pretty that's natural, not a lot of make-up or outrageous outfits needed. The type of girl Sam would go for – if he let himself look at another person twice, that is.

"Dean," Sam snaps, kicking him under the table. "Quit staring at her. Jesus."

"Oh, come on," Dean complains. "Live a little. Have fun."

"I am," Sam says. "I'm out having a beer with you."

"I mean go over there, talk to her. Take her back to the motel. I'll make myself scarce."

Sam doesn't reply, but he looks pissed off and upset.

"What?"

"I'm not going to sleep with her. Or anyone else," Sam hisses. "So please drop it."

Dean frowns at him. "You're usually uptight, but never this uptight, Sammy."

"Dean. I'm not going to sleep with other people," Sam repeats. "You were right about me not hurting you, because it's _you_ , but who knows what could happen with strangers? I can't risk that."

"Oh, come on. Seriously?" Dean asks. He tries to remember the last time Sam slept with someone – other than Dean himself, that is – and he comes up blank.

"Yes," Sam says, and his voice is firm.

"So what?" Dean asks. "You'll only have sex with me now?"

Sam shrugs.

"That's ridiculous," Dean says. "You expect us to be monogamous or some shit like that? We've never done that."

Sam finishes his beer and gets up. "I'm not expecting anything. You do whatever the fuck you want, Dean," he says. "I'm hitting the can."

Dean stays seated for a moment, jaw clenched, and feels the unexplainable urge to go after Sam, to make him talk about this. This thing between them has always worked because they never let it get complicated. They never really talked about it, about what it meant, and there've never been any rules. They fuck when they want to, and sometimes they don't for months, and sometimes there are other people. 

_This?_ This is definitely complicating things and it makes Dean's stomach twist.

They're not in a relationship. They're not going to settle down in a cute little house in some cute little town. And Dean is not going to be monogamous – he tried that whole thing with Lisa and it didn't work. It didn't work because, as much as he wants to be, that's not who Dean is, that's not what life has in the cards for him. Not even when it's him and Sam.

Dean finishes his beer and then goes to the bar, ordering a shot.

+

Dean fucks the girl that was eying Sam in the backseat of the Impala. She's making these soft breathy moans, her hands clenching around Dean's arms with each sharp thrust of Dean's hips, and it's nothing like being with Sam.

When she tries to kiss him, Dean turns his head away.

+

Dean isn't sure how Sam got back to the motel – whether he walked, or took a cab, or hell, hot-wired a car – but he's already in bed when Dean returns, the room dark.

Dean turns on the lights, and he's not surprised when the light bulb explodes a split second later.

Sam doesn't move, back turned to Dean.

+

"You missed out. She was amazing, Sammy," Dean says, pushing half a muffin into his mouth.

Sam stills, back to Dean as he rummages around in his duffel bag, wearing nothing but a towel. He turns around with a sigh. "I don't care, Dean," he says.

"What? So I'm not allowed to talk about girls anymore now?" Dean spits out after he's swallowed.

Sam gives him a look. "I mean, I don't care that you fucked her. Hell, go fuck every girl you see for all I care," he says. "This is has nothing to do with you, with us, okay? I'm doing it for myself."

Dean snorts. "Yeah, and I won't feel like a dick every time I'm with someone else at all," he mutters.

"Look, I'm not going to sleep with other people just to make you happy. Not when these freaky powers are going haywire," Sam says. "This isn't about you, Dean. I promise I will not get jealous or pissed if you hook up with other people. You have my permission to be as promiscuous as your heart desires, okay?"

"I don't need you permission anyway," Dean replies petulantly.

"You're right. You don't," Sam agrees. He untwists his towel and lets it drop to the floor, smirking at Dean. "I might want to sleep with you a little more often, though. Now that I don't have any other outlet, you know?"

Dean pretends not to be affected, eyes running up and down Sam's body slowly. "I can live with that," he replies.

Sam laughs. "Well, then come on," he says, and goes to kneel on the bed with a grin.

+

"So, uh, that was bad," Sam says, holding onto his arm and even in the murky light of the forest, Dean can see the small trickles of blood seeping through Sam's fingers.

"You almost buried us under a heap of debris, Sam," Dean says, voice tight.

"We got out," Sam points out. "And the Wendigo didn't."

Dean snorts. "Next time, let's go for a safer solution, okay? Like torching the motherfucker instead of almost trapping us in a collapsed cave with it," he says.

Sam grimaces. "It was an accident," he says. 

"Yeah, well, let's try not to have any more accidents in the future," Dean replies. "Come on. Let's go back to the motel so I can patch you up."

+

Dean thinks it says a lot about how fucked up their lives are when Sam doesn't even twitch while he stitches up the wound on Sam's arm. It helps that Sam knocked back enough Whiskey to be well past tipsy already, and the smile he gives Dean when Dean declares him all patched up is a little sloppy.

"Thank you," he says, and goes to kiss Dean. He tastes like alcohol, and uses way too much tongue the way Sam always does when he's drunk, but Dean sinks into it. He twists his fingers in Sam's hair and takes control of the kiss, pleased with the small whimpers he draws from Sam and the way he slurs Dean's name when Dean nibbles at his jaw.

He rolls Sam onto his side once they're both naked, presses a soft kiss to Sam's arm just above the stark white bandage, his fingers slowly working Sam open. 

He fucks Sam with small rolls of his hips, whispering into Sam's ear how tight he is, how hot he is around Dean, how fucking amazing he feels.

Sam pushes back, meeting his thrusts eagerly, moans mingling with pleas for more, deeper, harder. He comes quickly, untouched, and Dean fucks him through it, pleasure sparking at the way Sam clenches around him before going pliant.

+

In a small town just outside of Reno, they finish a simple salt and burn. When Dean suggests going out for a drink, Sam tells him to go alone because he'd rather go to bed.

Dean goes. 

He has two beers, and when a girl asks him if he wants to go back to her place with her, he buys her a drink and goes back to the motel alone.

He crawls into the bed where Sam is already asleep, and spoons up behind him. 

"Dean?" Sam murmurs.

"Go back to sleep," Dean replies. He rests his hand on Sam's stomach, under the t-shirt he's wearing, and the tip of his finger slips under the elastic of Sam's boxer briefs. 

He falls asleep with his face inches away from Sam's neck, smelling traces of the cheap motel soap, Sam's stupidly girly shampoo, and sweat.

+

The demon has her hands around Dean's throat when Sam throws her across the whole room with nothing more than the flick of his hand.

Dean leans against the wall behind him, panting and his side hurting like a bitch from the kicks he's received. He grits out the exorcism and then slumps back.

"You okay?" Sam asks. "Dean?"

"Fine," Dean says with a groan. "Go check on the girl, Sammy."

Sam frowns, but does as he's told.

Later, he gets an icepack for Dean's side and lies down on bed with him, running the tip of his finger carefully over the bruises on Dean's throat.

"It's kinda like before," he murmurs. "When I was drinking the demon blood."

He sounds sad, and Dean catches Sam's hand in his. "Well, you're not."

"No, I'm not," Sam agrees. "Not sure this is better. Still a freak."

Dean smiles. "Dude. You defeated Lucifer, you saved the world more than once. You saved me today," he says. 

"That makes it okay?" 

"I think it does," Dean replies. He shifts, wincing a little. "You don't need to prove to anyone that you're good, Sam."

"I don't care what anyone else thinks," Sam says dismissively. "I care what you think."

"Well, I _know_ you're one of the good guys," Dean says. "'s like with the superheroes and supervillains. They chose to be that way."

"That so?"

"Sure," Dean replies with a grin. "Take Tony Stark. Dude totally could have donned that suit and gone bad. Or, you know, sat back with his billions and just lived a happy life. He chose to be a hero instead."

"You're comparing me to Iron Man?"

"Robert Downey Jr. is hot, Sammy," Dean says. "It's a compliment."

Sam laughs softly. "Thanks, I guess," he says.

"Hmm. Any time," Dean replies. "And hey, thanks, you know, for not letting that demon bitch choke me to death."

"Any time," Sam murmurs, and kisses Dean.

+

Three months and five days after Sam's powers return, they pass through Clarksville.

The waitress in the little hole-in-the-wall diner they stop at for lunch isn't subtle about flirting with Dean. The way the first few buttons of her blouse are undone isn't subtle either, her boobs on full display every time she leans over.

Sam watches her with a small, amused smile. 

"You could definitely score with her," he says. There's a bit of ketchup clinging to his bottom lip.

"I could," Dean agrees. Hee leans over the small table, licking the ketchup from Sam's lip before kissing him.

The waitress is a lot less friendly when she brings them the check, but there's a small smile playing on Sam's lips and he knocks his shoulder against Dean's when they walk out of the diner.

+

"Come here," Sam says, waving Dean over.

Dean pulls his boxer-briefs up the last inch, forgoing the shirt he's pulled out, and walks over to where Sam is sitting on the bed.

"Hmm, what?" he asks with a smirk. He cocks his hips to the side a little, and Sam's eyes rest on the obvious outline of his cock.

"Later," Sam murmurs, smiling up at him. "Just want to show you something first."

"Show me what?" Dean asks.

"I think I'm starting to get this weird touching-you-thing under control," Sam says. "It's like how I fuck with electronics sometimes when I touch them, like I can send small surges of electricity through my fingers or something."

"Yeah?" Dean asks.

"Hmm," Sam hums. He reaches out and touches Dean's bare stomach, and the simple touch feels a hundred times more intense than Sam's usual touches, every nerve ending in Dean's body alive with pleasure.

"Jesus," he moans.

Sam skims his fingers up, brushing against Dean's skin softly, and Dean shudders.

"How're you doing that?"

"I don't really know," Sam says with a shrug. "But it feels good, right? I'm not hurting you?"

"Hell no," Dean says, and waves at his obviously half-hard cock. "Feels amazing."

"Yeah?" Sam asks hopefully and touches Dean again, a little bolder, and Dean feels ripples of pleasure shooting through him.

"Fuck, Sammy," he groans, and lets Sam pull him onto his lap. Sam's hands on his waist feel normal now, but Dean's body is still humming with excitement, and he wraps his arms around Sam's neck and kisses him.

Their tongues slide together, wet and hot, battling for dominance. Sam's hands slide down under the elastic of his boxer-briefs, and he grabs Dean's ass roughly, hitching him forward.

"Wanna fuck you," Sam says when he breaks the kiss. He mouths down Dean's throat and bites at his collarbone, making Dean gasp.

"Then do it," Dean grits out, tightening his hands in Sam's hair and arching up against Sam's lips.

He lets himself be manhandled onto his back, lifting his legs when Sam pulls off his boxer-briefs.

Sam preps him quickly, lubed fingers sliding in and out, twisting and turning.

He lifts Dean's legs over his shoulders, and Dean distantly thinks he's probably too old for positions like this when Sam bends forward and almost folds him in half to kiss him. But all thoughts leave his head when Sam positions himself and presses into Dean. He doesn't stop until he's all the way in, and Dean knows he's making noises he'd be embarrassed for under any other circumstances, but fuck, it feels amazing. Sam is huge and hard, filling him and stretching him, and he doesn't give Dean time to adjust. He pulls out and pushes back in with a quick snap of his hips. 

He fucks Dean hard and fast, his thrusts deep and perfect, and he brushes touches against Dean's skin every now and then that send zings of energy through his body. Dean can't do much more than arch into Sam's touches, moaning soft words of encouragement.

He comes groaning Sam's name, and he's never going to tell Sam, but he's pretty sure his vision goes black for a few, short moments.

+

They never talk about how months pass and Dean doesn't sleep with anyone but Sam.

They don't talk about how Sam's control of his power grows with each day, and how he slowly but surely stops being worried about them, using them more and more.

They don't talk about how, when they're driving down a long, empty highway, Dean will rest his hand on Sam's thigh, or how they sleep in one bed even when they don't do more than share a few soft kisses before going to sleep, or how Sam likes to curl himself up against Dean at night.

+

"Hey," Sam says one day, looking out at the empty stretch of desert in front of them, hand shielding his eyes against the bright light of the sun.

Dean takes a sip of his beer. "Hmm?"

Sam turns around to look at him and grins. "Things have been good for a while," he says. "Nothing's been threatening to wipe out mankind. Neither of us has died in a while. That kinda thing."

Dean smiles. "Yeah," he agrees.

Sam's grin gets wider, dimples deep and eyes sparkling. "Guess we're catching a break after all."

"Guess so," Dean murmurs, and catches Sam around the waist, pulling him close. He leans up and kisses Sam.

For two hunters who've been through hell and back, Dean thinks, this is pretty good. It's more than Dean had expected from life in the last few years. He has his car, the open road, monsters to kill, a cool beer, and he has Sam. And Sam might have freaky powers, but he's doing all right. He's alive and smiling and they're together.

It's all Dean needs to finally, for once, feel okay.


End file.
